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Post by kazkame on Jul 21, 2008 11:14:36 GMT -5
The planet of Nucor was colonized not so long after the colonization of mars. The planet was colonized and discovered by A Belter Mining Corporation. They first began sending small communes of people down to the planets arid and desert like surface. Soon the groups began to split up to get a better sense of the planet. Soon towns such a Durndel and New Helvo became epicenters of trade and enterprise. Settlement was spread between the Great Sea as the locals called it, the sands were traversed in vehicle, Steam trains, and other modern modes of transportation.
The general look of everything became sort of like the new west, with people wearing trench coats, ponchos, and holstering hidden weapons. It wasn’t till the attacks of the sandworms that weapons were introduced into the planet. Since then weapons are sold by the hundreds even children from the corners of the dusty streets. They mostly look like old guns from the west but perform like modern guns.
The town of Elmer was about 40 km from Durndel and was a popular spot for travelers to refuel on their voyages across the sands. The Town square was a hot spot for venders and thieves to sell their wares. The town surrounded the square and its statue of a meteorite, which commemorated the day the town, was founded. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rogers sat a seat at the Rusted rocket waiting for his contact to appear. He had ordered a drink about an hour ago. This would have been fine except that the bar was completely empty during the day. “Hey Barkeep where’s my whiskey” he said with his gruff voice. The bartender just sat there cleaning glasses like he hadn’t heard him. “Damm robots” he said walking towards the bar with his hat over his eyes. The shelves were clean as the day they installed them which was about three years ago. Rogers grabbed the colt 99 bottle from behind the robot and began to drink it. “Wears that dam contact I have to Catch the next Steamer out of here.” He said staring at the door.
OCC: Ok This is a medium level RP just look at some FRP continuity and try to find a way to the bar.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jul 25, 2008 1:23:08 GMT -5
OOC: Expect a post from me soon. I'm ironing out the last details of my character. I'm calling the strumpet with a heart of gold that all good westerns need!
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jul 27, 2008 23:28:08 GMT -5
"If you've got any extra time, I'm sure that somebody here should be able to..." A cloud of aromatic smoke drifted into Rogers face. "-take that time off of your hands."
A woman with raven black hair slunk into the seat next to him. She was clad in only a low-cut crimson dress that fell barely below her knees, a slit in it on either side revealing shapely thighs. She pursed her blood-red lips, and exhaled another stream of smoke. Her face was pretty, though it was evident from the makeup she wore that she was at least ten years past her prime. Typical.
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Post by kazkame on Jul 29, 2008 15:43:09 GMT -5
Rogers tried to identify the tobacco or other substance the woman had been smoking. It was a bit to sweet for his taste, he preferred the cigarettes his brother made back on the farm. Those cigarettes made boys into men or that's what his brother told him. He died a while ago defending his land from bandits and the back. His dusty jacket hung heavy on his small frame, it made him look like a drifter of some type. The messy bowl cut he call hair didn't help either with his predicament.
He turned his battered body towards the women and answered her question with a toothy smile. " Mam if you're one of those brothel maids you're asking the wrong man. Why not as the robot at the bar , he might need a little tune up"
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jul 29, 2008 21:20:31 GMT -5
"Ohhh..." She pouted slightly, stubbing out her cigarette on the counter and removing it from its holder. She leaned back, stretching her neck, and then turned to face him again. "So, what brings a roughneck like you around here? You seem the type that wouldn't mind... compensated amusement, but you turned me down." She blew out another stream of smoke.
"So, something must be up. And I DO enjoy being in the know." The woman evidently had ignored his harsher words, probably used to being shot down brutally in her line of work.
OOC: So, where's the rest of us?
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Post by bulbaboy on Jul 31, 2008 11:27:10 GMT -5
The doors flew open as man in his late twenties stumbled through the door, his combat boots scuffing the floor. His hair was red and tied back in a ponytail that stretched a little past his shoulders. A light-green fitted shirt that covered his average looking frame and a dirty pair of off-white khakis were under a long black duster. Around his waist was a rather large belt that only went through one belt-loop, a common trend in most gunslingers since the belt wasn’t there for the sake of keeping your pants up. Though most of the belt remained hidden under the duster, it was obvious that something large was causing it to sag to one side. On his back, he carried a high power rifle with a scope. He clutched his side as he made his way towards the bar and fell into the first available seat. When he pulled his hand away, it revealed a small hole in both his duster and his shirt that seemed to be soaked in blood. Grabbing the highest proof drink he could find, the man opened the bottle with his teeth, took a long drink, and then poured the contents onto his wound. His face contorted as he gritted his teeth yet a sound didn’t escape his lips. From his pocket, he produced a long pair of metal tweezers that he poured alcohol on. With a deep breath, he inserted the tweezers and began searching blindly for something in his wound. When he finally withdrew them, a bullet was squeezed tightly between the ends. The bullet clattered to the tabletop as he dropped slug and placed the tweezers next to it with a sigh of relief. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it back to get a better look at the wound. This revealed several scars and bruises on his chest and stomach. Again, he reached into his pocket and this time pulled out thread and a curved needle. The man threaded it and proceeded to stitch himself up, finally looking up and noticing the other two people in the bar. He studied them for a moment before looking back at his wound so he could see what he was doing. “So,” he said still looking down, “How are you folks doin?” OOC – So some read this over my shoulder and was like “what the hell is a duster” Duster
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Post by kazkame on Aug 4, 2008 11:39:43 GMT -5
OCC: Give me a bit to get the post together summer essays are killing me.
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 4, 2008 20:43:10 GMT -5
OOC: I'm trying to think of a character for this, because I want to get in on it... but I can't... Hm... can butterfly knives be western? I like butterfly knives. >_>
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Post by kazkame on Aug 4, 2008 20:49:35 GMT -5
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 4, 2008 22:59:54 GMT -5
OOC: I know what a butterfly knife is, I just don't know if it would fit in a western situation... <_<
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Post by Tout-Perd on Aug 4, 2008 23:08:40 GMT -5
OOC: It should. My trollop has a fairly modern weapon, so a butterfly knife won't break it.
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Post by kazkame on Aug 4, 2008 23:16:08 GMT -5
OOC: Choobs its ok, If a character can have a multi weapon disguised as a cross its seems ok.
Before Rogers could answer the wounded man's question or the woman next to him the door to the saloon exploded flinging wood chips and concrete towards the group. It barely hit the man in the duster and nailed rogers in the arm. The dust settled to reveal four characters wearing brown trench coats with guitar cases. One wearing glasses walk out of the line formation of the others and began to speak.
“I demand the one called Ezekiel Rogers to return our remains of our boss right now. If not we will decimate every single person starting with the children then the women. Just to prove we’re not joking we have a little present from the forsaken.” He said grabbing a violin case behind him and throwing it towards the startle women in the red dress.
OOC: Umm don’t attack yet ,I have to get the other guitar men in to mix
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 5, 2008 0:47:20 GMT -5
A man in a brown ankle-length coat was sitting at the bar next to Roger. His fedora'd head was bowed over a beverage that was more than likely alcoholic. He raised the cup to his clean-shaven, though aged, mouth, taking it all down in one swig. He raised a scarred hand, signaling the barkeep for one more.
When the man in a duster walked in and pulled a bullet from his stomach, the man at the bar looked over his shoulder, mildly interested, but went back to his drinks.
However, when the door exploded, causing wood dust to settle in the man's drink, he turned around and faced the intruders full on. The man, Stephen, stood up. Clearly he was inebriated.
"Well... looks like a tussle's about to start... I guess that's my cue to mozy on out..." he slurred. Stephen stumbled towards the broken door, falling into one of the guitar men. "Scuse meh..."
OOC: Oh shart, Kaz edited his post as I posted my post. I'll edit this after I read his.
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Post by bulbaboy on Aug 5, 2008 15:30:53 GMT -5
When the door exploded the man in the duster casually looked over to see what was going on. He watched for a moment then when back to stitching himself up. Hopefully if they were going to start a ruckus they would at least wait till he was done.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Aug 5, 2008 19:22:07 GMT -5
The woman pulled away as the bloody man sat down next to her. She wasn't easily perturbed, but blood... She jerked much more suddenly as the door exploded, almost falling off of the stool.
"Oh boy. I hope that the police don't show up again... I've had enough tiffs with them as is." The woman slowly, cautiously stood up, and then proceeded to back away from the middle of the room, trying to put as much distance between her and all possible people named Rogers in the bar.
"Just his compensated accompaniment, gentlemen, not a close friend. You can leave me alone." She said as soothingly as possible, her voice not handling actual speaking aloud very well. She put her back against the wall, letting her hands hang limply at her sides, watching the scene as it unfolded. She didn't like slithering away like a treacherous serpent, but people thought nothing of killing somebody like her.
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Post by kazkame on Aug 12, 2008 21:02:38 GMT -5
The Man with the glasses seemed annoyed that Rogers didn't come out to greet them. " OK Rogers I Give up on being civililized with you. Boy torch this place and the rest of the town. I tried to spare these people from The Forsaken, but i guess you don't care. Hope you like a Clean conscience." He quickly turn and walked out of sight as the rest of the gang appeared in the blast hole. All of them holding gun and assorted weapons. The began to point at the people in bar and began Shotting.
The occupants began to scream as the bullets flew. Everything then went silent as roger stood in front of the shots and absorbed all of them. The bullets merely absorbed in to his skin and left dents where they hit. " You guys better get down, this might get ugly" he said to the group of people around him. When he finished His warning he began to motion his body in to a ball then began to glow. He then shot the bullets out of his body in a scattered direction towards the gang.
The member fell like dominoes on the floor. Rogers then knelled to the ground in anguish.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Dec 30, 2008 23:15:04 GMT -5
The woman fell back, weak kneed, when the shooting began. She had lost too many friends to chaos like this, and even if she was armed, it wasn't going to be much help against four thugs. Stifling her urge to scream, she crawled beneath the nearest table, and covered her head. Still cowering as best she could, she peeked over the leg of the table to watch as the chaos unfolded.
As the bullets struck Roger, she felt her bile rising. The poor man... Whatever he had done, it didn't deserve a treatment like that. Death should be a peaceful thing, not the violence that was all too common in her life, and all of those around her. Putting her hand over her lips, she could only watch in awe as the man returned the bullets to their rightful owners.
"Hey!" She clambered out from the cover she had taken, and proceeded to stumble across the room until she reached the man. She put her hand on his shoulder, and knelt down next to him.
"You okay there? What on earth just happened?" Not waiting for a response, she rose and bumbled her way back to the bar, still incredibly shaky from her nerves.
"Barkeep, bottle of whiskey. I'll pay you back later," She forced a wink at the pale, boney man polishing the glasses. She didn't have much choice in the matter. Turning as quickly as she could, she found the man in the duster.
"Hey! You gotta know somethin' about medicine, right?" She leaned towards him, the bottle sloshing. "C'mon, doc. I don't know how to tell how bad this guy is hurt, so it's all up to you."
She tried to meet his gaze, pleading with her eyes. When that failed to rouse him to action, she grabbed his sleeve and began tugging vigorously. She hoped that the pain would be enough to get his attention, and maybe provoke some activity from the man.
OOC: Post in the FRP.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 6, 2009 23:45:16 GMT -5
Stephen drunkenly stumbled backwards as the thug he walked into shoved him and pulled out a gun.
"Well then."
In an almost graceful maneuver, Stephen crumbled to the ground behind a table, kicking and thus breaking one of the legs so that it collapsed over him like a tent. He was too drunk to really realize that everyone was getting shot.
OOC: short post is short.
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